


The Light at the End of Demise

by unavoidablekoishi



Category: Hyrule Warriors: Age of Calamity (Video Game), The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Basically, Blood and Gore, Death, Different Timelines AU, Gen, Necromancy, References to Ocarina of Time, The champions all come from different eras of time, Zombie AU, executions, get ready, i almost tagged this as major character death but like, is there even a point they're barely even dead anymore, ngl its a bit like that, obviously lmao, references to Twilight Princess, this fic is a fucking beast so like, u know zombieland saga
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-02-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29011443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unavoidablekoishi/pseuds/unavoidablekoishi
Summary: With the Calamity just over the horizon, and the kingdom rife with political tensions from all four corners of the map, Zelda, with the persuasion of a morally questionable team of crackpot scientists, decides to try her hand at resurrecting the dead in order to gain some useful allies. Turns out, the time and effort that goes into it is by far the least demanding aspect of the process. Not when you have to conceal a group of restless zombies from the rest of the world, anyway.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 19





	1. The Fluidity of Mortality

_ The Yiga footsoldier disappears with a sharp puff of smoke that emits a charming scent of fried bananas. The hue of alabaster that tints Zelda’s knuckles rival that of the gown she’s wearing, though muddied slightly from an unexpected skid in the grass. The stained grazes on both knees barely register with the way she’s rooted to the spot, watching the battling around her play out with no way to assist.  _

_ She uselessly thinks about striding out there and taking the blow herself, watching the way Link winces under the pressure of the arrival of a new Yiga bladesman. How she’d longed to take ahold of each battle with her own two hands, and bear the brunt of her own existence, but such a responsibility would have to go through every single citizen of Hyrule before it ever fell to her.  _

_ Even if it were to accept an inevitable death, snatching this responsibility would only land Link in further trouble. She doesn’t know what he makes of his role in her life. It’s something she’d initially despised about him, aside from his limpet-like tendencies. He really only was doing his job, though, wasn’t he? Meanwhile, her own job went entirely unfulfilled. _

_ That was the reason they were in this mess to begin with, wasn’t it? _

_ She shakily moves backwards, feeling her heels getting caught in the knots of grass beneath her. The bladesman seems to shift the earth with every movement, and as Link nearly crumbles under the force laid upon his shield, he looks over his shoulder at her. His eyes are fierce, but something is glimmering in a way she grows fearful for. With a flick of the head, gold hair trailing behind, he urges her to leave. She shudders. _

_ She doesn’t want to. She’s supposed to have faith in Link- he carries the sacred sword, after all- but… if he falls… _

_ Swallowing back saliva that sears the tongue like acid, she spins on her heel and runs. She runs and she runs, even when her breath is gone, her feet are numb, and her vision is white.  _

_ Somehow, it feels like the least she can do for Link, not knowing that it’s the last time she’s ever going to see him. _

* * *

“We’re still working on the excavation of Vah Naboris, but it won’t be long until it is complete.”

Zelda bides her time in the meeting staring down at the stone slabs of grey beneath her feet. She’s only vaguely paying attention to what is being said, pondering the idea of engaging properly with the meeting, and wary of when she’s under the gaze of her father.

Things did not seem to be going as smoothly as he would like. Under the looming threat of the Calamity, a ground-shaking emergence of the darkest power that could erupt at any day now, and preparations were still… well, in preparation. The Divine Beasts were still in the process of maintenance, her power had yet to come to light and… they’d lost their hero. The boy with the sword that could seal the darkness. The sword wasn’t particularly useful anymore, sitting idle in Zelda’s own bedroom, and the hero wasn’t much use either, now six feet underground. 

She wants to be angry with him. She knows she reasonably cannot be, but it was so infuriating. He, like her, had the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he’d ended up dead before he could ever fulfill his role. How could that be? It was starting to feel like a bad omen. Without Link, everything felt incredibly hopeless. How was she going to pick up the pieces he’d left behind?

“And what say the Gerudo?”

Rhoam’s voice is deep and rich, full of all the poise and authority a member of royalty should possess. Zelda remembers spending many an hour trying to mimic that grand voice, but the only result had been a sore throat and a few odd looks from her advisor, Impa. 

Speaking of Impa, her trusty Sheikah companion is standing quietly behind her, observing the proceedings of the meeting and undoubtedly retaining more information than she was. Zelda doesn’t need to look over her shoulder to confirm her presence. Impa was always reliably by her side. 

“The Gerudo, uh… have not been particularly responsive. We’ve requested several audiences with their chief, but to no avail.” Zelda recognises the man speaking as a soldier very high up in the ranks of their military. His brows furrow with every unfortunate word he delivers, and nobody in the room seems particularly stirred by this. 

“So what are they doing to help combat the Calamity? We’ve heard nothing from them.”

The soldier coughs awkwardly into his hand, “They appear to be rallying their own forces in preparation, but…”

Rhoam sighs, and it’s loud enough to silence the entire room, “They must surely understand that our factions cannot fight individually. We must unite our forces to fight against the Calamity- only our combined power may help us.”

He sounds weary, as Zelda has become very accustomed to nowadays. She can’t blame him. Even with her assistance, there are so many things for him to oversee in order to keep the preparations smooth and organised. However, it’s becoming quite the challenge when none of the other inhabitants of Hyrule are cooperating.

It wasn’t just the Gerudo that were refusing to join forces. The Zora had initially been hesitant regarding the proposal, but they’ve been in a state of hesitation for months now, and Zelda can’t picture them making any decisions anytime soon. The Gorons had also made a show of considering the proposal, but if the commotion from up on Death Mountain was anything to go by, they were preparing their own retaliation.

The Rito had been the most hostile, as ever they are. They’d flat out refused to aid the Hylian forces, instead working diligently to enhance their own military power. The Rito were particularly skilled in the art of aerial combat, and would undoubtedly be useful in fighting off the hordes of Ganon’s minions. However, they just did not seem interested in making any kind of pact.

Things had never been so uneasy- Zelda is certain that the rise of the Calamity is striking fear and doubt into everybody’s hearts, and nobody knew quite what to do about it. Each faction is incredibly strong on their own, but not strong enough. Their own forces just will not be enough to tackle Ganon, surely they must know this. Zelda wishes to plead with them for their aid, but knows very well they will not yield. They are all stubborn in their own right. Her own father, and the Hylian forces too, are heavily rooted in their prideful ways, but pride will not help them win this war. Zelda doesn’t want to lose her home.

What concerns her more is that even with the united forces of every faction in Hyrule, it will not be enough to stop Ganon. That is where her own fabled power would come in, but there’d been absolutely no sign of it appearing. No matter how hard she prays or how sincerely she wishes, her sacred power just will not manifest. How could that be? It was her one important responsibility, and she couldn’t even make it past the first hurdle. 

She can’t bear to sit here and listen to the same slew of bad news. It’s too much. She wonders if she can get away with leaving the meeting early. At this point, there’s nothing worth sticking around for. Even her father looks ready to just get up and go.

She catches Impa’s eye over her shoulder. Impa’s gaze upon her is one of sincerity, but there’s a small shimmer to it that always bleeds concern. Zelda purses her lips, eyes flicking towards the exit in a silent plea. Impa shrugs imperceptibly.

Zelda stands up, neatly adjusting her gown into place. With the amount of burly, armoured men in the room, her movement is hardly noticeable, but Rhoam spies her out of the very corner of his eye. Her expression towards him is painfully neutral as Impa leads the way out of the hall. She keeps her footsteps as light as possible, so as not to disturb the other soldiers. Rhoam makes no moves to stop her. 

She has to wait until they are out in the corridor and the door is closed before she’s able to emit a much needed sigh. It’s so heavy, she can feel her entire body decompressing along with it. Impa watches her silently, arms folded. 

Rubbing away the beginnings of a headache, Zelda can only stare at the floor.

“What is there to do? What will excavating Naboris help now? Nobody will agree to pilot it.”

Impa’s body language is entirely noncommittal, “We can’t stop now just because the odds are against us. That’s what ensures an early demise, you know.” Zelda spares a moment to flash her an incredulous expression, one only Impa can dare to face. 

“We’ve already lost our hero. Won’t our futile efforts only serve to make our doom that much more painful?”

Impa throws her hands out, “Oh Hylia, princess, what am I supposed to say? Link may be gone now, but he was only part of the puzzle. You’re the one to possess the legendary fabled power. Even without him, I… I believe you can do it.” The last part is spoken softly enough to make Zelda wince. She knows full well there’s nothing Impa can personally do to ease their situation, but… who else could she turn to? If only to cry a little.

“It would be nicer if I actually had the power,” Zelda murmurs, with all the bitterness of a root to her voice, “I’m sure I would feel a lot more at ease if that were the case. There’s just no telling when or how it will happen. It’s… infuriating.”

“To say the least,” Impa tacks on, dryly, “but this is following legend, remember. Prophecy. It has to come true one way or another, even if it’s in a way we don’t expect. So chin up!”

Impa stances herself in front of Zelda, hands on hips and eyes shining with confidence, “I know you can do this! This power will come to you sooner or later!”

Zelda’s forehead is still creased with concern, and she decides to refrain from telling Impa not to feign confidence on her account. Instead, she nods sagely and begins to walk down the corridor. 

There isn’t a single bump in the lush red carpet that blankets the cold stone floors of the hallway. It’s soft, even beneath the soles of shoes, and Zelda can’t help but be taken away by the lazy, inoffensive thoughts about it, occupied with every step she takes. If only her life could be this plush. Warm and peaceful. Just a straight road ahead, with no awkward twists or turns. How desirable.

Then again, carpet is only so thick, and all it ever does is hide the cold and unforgiving nature of the hard ground below. Even her useless internal metaphors are tangentially linked to doom. She just can’t catch a break. 

She stops walking, placing a head against her forehead with an expression twisted in discomfort. Failed carpet metaphors. That’s really what her life was coming to in the face of undeniable demise. She’s hardly surprised she’s lacking the fabled power. 

Link is enviable, she thinks. Not because he’s dead, though he seems to have jumped the gun a little earlier than everybody else in that regard, but because his power simply lies in a sword. Swords are a pretty easy concept to grasp. They have a material existence in this world. You either have one, or you don’t. Link’s ability to wield the special darkness-sealing sword was fairly evident, considering he didn’t keel over when he tried to use it. That was more than enough for him to qualify. 

Zelda doesn’t doubt that he’s put an unbelievable amount of time and effort into his ability, though the knowledge that he’d been gifted into swordplay all the way back into his younger years is a bitter thought for her. Why couldn’t she just have the power now and then learn how to use it? It would be so much more efficient. Even if she gains the power, there’s no telling if she’ll know how to use it properly. Why did it have to be so stressful?

Zelda has half a mind to take up that old sword of Link’s. It would do her more good right now than any fabled power. Praying wasn’t guaranteeing the appearance of any special ability, no matter how much her father instructed her to do so. 

“Princess…?”

Impa is watching Zelda with gentle eyes, and Zelda wonders how long she’s been thinking to herself for. Withstanding a slight physical cringe, Zelda offers her an apologetic nod of the head, “Sorry. My mind seems to be all over the place today.”

“Well, I think I might know something that’ll put a smile on that face of yours! Purah told me she’s planning something, and I’m about to go back to the village to see what it is.”

Zelda pauses, but her response is evident in her eyes before she even speaks, “I… I’m not sure I can. You know I’m supposed to be working towards my power.”

Impa waves a dismissive hand, “I do know that, but I also know you’re not set to visit any of the sacred springs for a while yet. It’ll only be for a little bit, alright? You need a break.”

Zelda cracks a smile, very tempted by the offer. How she loved to keep updated on the work of the Sheikah researchers. Their technology was astounding, and if she could, she’d devote every working hour to unlocking every mystery it had to offer. Purah had a very strong foothold in the higher rungs of Sheikah research, so if she was planning something, it was likely to be very big. She wouldn’t want to miss something like that.

“Well…” Zelda smiles, “I’m sure I can pray for a little bit whilst I’m there.”

“That’s the spirit!”

* * *

Even in the darkest of times, Kakariko Village remains a stunningly beautiful little area, surrounded by verdant landscapes and foliage. The evening sun casts a honeyed glow upon the wooden structures by the time Zelda and Impa arrive there. The leaves, once green, are painted with shades of amber, barely disturbed by the gentle breeze that blows through the valley.

Zelda always feels strangely at home whenever she comes to Kakariko Village. The peaceful atmosphere and the kind nature of the community are very welcoming to her, helping to relieve the pent up stress of her role as royalty. 

Impa also looks very happy to be back, as it is her home. For the most part, Impa spends her time by Zelda’s side, travelling wherever she goes and staying wherever she stays, so it’s a nice change of pace to finally return home for something recreational, rather than for business.

“I wonder,” Zelda begins to murmur, as they stroll leisurely down the incline that leads into the heart of the village, “Do you know what it is Purah is planning?”

Impa shrugs, “Not a clue. Normally, I try to… you know…  _ discourage  _ her from making any stupid plans, but it seems like she’s had this one in the works for some time now. Why she wanted to reveal now of all times is a mystery to me.”

“Perhaps it has something to do with the Sheikah Slate? Or something that may aid our fight against Ganon.” Zelda’s tone is optimistically hopeful in a way Impa can’t help but sigh at. Not because she dislikes the optimism, but because she knows Purah far better than Zelda does.

“I wouldn’t get your hopes up that high, princess. Purah’s had some bad ideas in the past. We’ll be lucky if she doesn’t accidentally jumpstart the Calamity, let alone help prevent it.”

Though it’s an unfortunate thought for them both, Zelda decides it’s worth a small chuckle, even at Purah’s expense. She was certainly an eccentric character. Zelda had been initially surprised to learn they were sisters, due to their massively conflicting personalities. Purah, with her creative outlook and odd habits, and Impa, with her no-nonsense and hardworking attitude. Growing up together must’ve certainly been quite the experience. 

Zelda can’t help but long for a kind of sibling relationship like that. Having a childhood companion to chat, play and bicker with. Life is lonely in such a large castle, no matter how many people are assigned to protect you.

Jolted from the thought, Purah is standing at the bottom of the incline waiting for them. She waves with such energy, a big grin plastered over her features. Her glasses are perched on the top of her head, neatly tucking a wild streak of coloured hair into place.

“You finally made it!”

Zelda finds it’s incredibly hard to be downcast around Purah. The woman just radiates sunshine. Always eager about something, and usually it was her research.

“Purah. It’s good to see you.” Zelda smiles, pleasantly.

Purah strikes a confident pose, which only really serves to put a grimace on Impa’s face, “Good to see you too, princess! And do I have something for you today! C’mon, c’mon, we better get moving!”

Impa sighs, “Alright, Purah, slow down. We only just got here. Let the princess take a moment to rest.” Her lecture falls entirely on deaf ears as Purah is coming close to taking the princess by the wrist and dragging her in the direction of the workshop. Zelda doesn’t seem to mind either way, though, as she says hurriedly, “It’s alright! I’m very curious to see what Purah has planned.”

Impa can only shake her head and follow behind them. Purah wouldn’t let them get a foot in the door before sweeping them off somewhere else. Between her and Robbie, it’s a wonder anyone is allowed to sit down at all.

Purah leads them through the quaint little village. They pass the multitude of shops, all selling food, clothes and other wares. They pass the austere abode of the village elder, surrounded by miniature sculptures of the goddess Hylia. Zelda spies the few Sheikah who are praying diligently, feeling a pang of something uncomfortable within her gut. She can’t quite pinpoint it, but she doesn’t think she needs to. She shakes it off without another thought, and follows Purah and Impa up into a smaller building nestled against the cliff face surrounding the village. 

Purah beckons them in with a finger, “C’mere, c’mere.”

“Alright, alright,” Impa rolls her eyes, allowing the princess to enter the house first, before shutting the door behind herself, “What is it? You’ve been pestering me about this for days now.”

Zelda takes a short moment to look around the room. It’s not Purah’s normal base of operations, but it’s already starting to look like it. Papers are scattered absolutely everywhere. Chunks of Guardian material are strewn across workbenches, surrounded by open books full of scrawly handwriting. Zelda is immediately excited by the appearance of all of this, because there really isn’t anywhere else she’d rather be. To spend all day tinkering with Sheikah technology, reading books on ancient ruins and uncovering all the mysteries of the people living in this very village tens of thousands of years ago. What a dream it would be for her.

Purah turns to take up a perch on the table, placing her hands on her knees as she leans in to talk to the two girls.

“Alright. I’m warning you now, this is super-duper top secret. You have to promise me to keep this entirely under wraps, got it?”

“Purah,” Impa glares, “What have you done now? I swear, if you’re going to try and drag the princess into trouble--”

The way in which Purah is able to cut right through her sister’s words with a simple wave of the hand is something Zelda finds to be remarkably intimidating, especially considering Impa’s general forthright attitude. Though she retains a smile, her eyes look uncharacteristically serious. Zelda swallows, feeling the cold, clammy sensation of anxiety seeping into her palms.

“I know you’ve been struggling with the preparations to help defeat the Calamity. It’s no secret- nobody is cooperating with us, and we’re still trying to excavate the last of the Divine Beasts. We’re in a real jam right now, wouldn’t you agree?”

Zelda nods silently.

“There’s no telling if any of the others will suddenly change their minds and request a collaborative force. Not only that, but with the way things are going now, we might not even have time to properly combine our power. That’s a real problem for us.”

“Where are you going with this…?” Impa’s eyes narrow.

Purah sits back, crossing her legs, “Well, Robbie and I… we’ve been developing a little something on the down-low. Not something that would be very well received, but it is something that might help us. That is, if you want to hear what it is?”

Zelda has been wringing her hands for the past minute or so, but she stops when Purah waits expectantly for an answer. With a harsh line of concern etched into her forehead, she nods silently once more.

“Alright. Well. We’re out of allies. We’re treating this scenario as if we are entirely alone in this operation. We need support. We primarily need pilots for the Divine Beasts, but some other reinforcements wouldn’t hurt either.”

“So where do you plan on finding people like this?” Impa crosses her arms, beginning to feel a bit impatient, but it’s only thinly veiling her mild anxiety of what’s to come.

“I’ve been spending a lot of time at the Shrine of Resurrection- you know, the one up on the Great Plateau? After a lot of extensive testing, we discovered it can heal injuries. It can restore battered bodies back to their healthy form. Cool, right?”

Zelda cannot possibly predict where this is going, no matter how much she tries.

“Recently, Robbie and I have tried to test the limits of the shrine. We wanted to see how much it was really capable of, and… we think we’ve made a breakthrough.”

“A breakthrough?” Zelda has only been able to visit the shrine once, but this had been before it was ever functional. Purah must’ve been working overtime to get it up and running. 

Purah nods, a smirk pulling at the corner of her lips, “Oh yeah. A  _ real  _ breakthrough. Turns out, with the right adjustments and the suitable materials, we can actually  _ resurrect  _ people from the  _ dead! _ ”

Zelda doesn’t realise her mouth is hanging wide open, as is Impa’s. Whilst Impa stumbles for the right words to speak, Zelda is stumbling over the right ideas to piece together Purah’s plan. Resurrecting people was an enormous feat! Was it even morally okay? There are far too many immediate factors in this for her to comprehend. 

“You mean you brought someone back from the--”

Purah hurriedly waves her arms to prevent Impa from shouting loud enough for anybody else to hear, “No! No, no, not yet! Nah, we did this on animals first. Don’t worry, we didn’t kill any! They were dead when we found them, but what we discovered was that with the materials left behind, we could revive them!”

At this point, Purah pulls a face, “The thing is, though, it takes a lot longer than if it was just healing somebody, and it’s especially dependent on how much material you have. On one test, we had the whole carcass- like, it was freshly dead. That took about maybe a day and half, two days. But for another test we did, we only had a single bone. That took a week!”

Zelda is still processing this entire situation, so all she can bring herself to do is listen to Purah talk with a lame expression on her face.

“Then again, it was a pretty big animal. All in all, there are a lot of factors to consider. Size of the person, how many materials we have- I’m still messing around to find the perfect settings, but you get what I mean.”

Purah stops and smiles for a moment, taking in the empty expressions of the two girls, “Well? What do you think?”

“Purah! Are you  _ insane?!  _ Are you seriously trying to bring people back from the dead?! There’s no way you can do that with a clear conscience. Surely there are like… rules against this kind of thing!”

“Rules made by who?”

Impa stammers, anxiously waving her hands around in order to try and emphasise the point she can’t quite verbally make, “You know what I mean! It’s just an unspoken rule! And who are you gonna bring back from the dead, huh? What if they don’t even want to be brought back! What’re you gonna do then?”

Purah shrugs, “Kill ‘em again?”

Impa doesn’t dare to hide how appalled she is. Zelda, on the other hand, is still reeling from all of this. She has no idea what to make of it, nor where to even start. Sure, the clue might’ve been in the name, but did the Shrine of Resurrection really have this kind of power? Healing someone from on the brink of death was one thing, but the power to resurrect a departed soul was something else entirely.

Purah and Impa continue to bicker, leaving Zelda to watch them wordlessly. Circumstances were especially dire. Purah was right. Could this really be a way to aid the forces against the Calamity? Even if they did revive somebody, there was no telling if they’d want to cooperate. These were the risks that made this decision especially difficult.

“Um…”

Zelda’s small voice interrupts the two arguing sisters, who look over at her.

“If… if you were to bring somebody back… who would it be? For theoretical purposes, of course.”

“Princess!” Impa protests, only to be silenced yet again by the older sister. Purah flashes her a cheeky grin, which seems entirely inappropriate for the topic at hand in all honesty. Then again, with the way things are now, it’s definitely not the worst part about this situation.

“I’m so glad you asked. Actually, for our first subject… I was considering Link.”

Zelda can’t tell if the entire room has gone cold or if it’s just her. Her hands are freezing, but her forehead feels burning hot, as if stricken with fever. The nerves are surely getting to her- after all, why would she even consider this? Then again…

...if Link were here, she wouldn’t have to tackle the Calamity by herself. 

There’s no way he’d planned on dying, either. If he had the chance to come back and do it all over, she thinks he’d take it. He’s not an unreliable kind of person. He’ll take up the responsibility if need be, if only to act as a supporting role for her. 

Then there’s Impa’s argument. A shift in morals was definitely required to go through with a plan like this. It was potentially disrespectful to the departed subject, especially if they didn’t wish to be revived once more. Not to mention, in order to revive these particular subjects, they’d most likely have to dig up their remains. Zelda can’t see herself getting away with doing that, not even in front of her father.

Ah, yes, and then there was her father. Did he have any idea of what was going on here? She can’t imagine he’d ever agree to it. It’s too far-fetched and risky of a plan for such special and serious circumstances. He wouldn’t even admit to being desperate enough to agree with this.

But Zelda, on the other hand…

“I...I would think that Link is a good person to potentially resurrect,” Zelda murmurs, anxiously, “If… I mean… won’t people know if we do this? And if we resurrect Link, then who else is there? I can’t think of anybody who could aid us…”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Purah wags a finger in front of Zelda’s nose with a knowing expression on her face, “I’ve been doing a little bit of research into old figures of the past. I’m starting to see a few people I reckon we could use the help of. That, though, will have to sit on the backburner for now. First, we have to see if this will really work on people.”

“Hold on, hold on, you guys can’t just decide you’re gonna--”

“If we can bring Link back,” Zelda suddenly cuts Impa off with more force than she’d initially intended, but her deeply furrowed brows suggest to the silent Impa that she’s considering this quite seriously, “it will be an enormous piece to our puzzle. We need him. I… need him. Do you think we can do this?”

Purah nods, “I think we have a very good shot. If we start now, we’ll have him back with us in a week maximum, but… are you sure you’re up for this? I’m only doing this with your express permission. This is down to you now.”

Zelda swallows. Impa doesn’t say anything, but her expression is incredibly uneasy. Impa knows she is Zelda’s advisor, but she also knows Zelda well enough to know she cannot be swayed easily when she gets an idea stuck in her head. She feels she’s made her point already. The rest was down to the princess.

Zelda didn’t realise how hard she’s been clasping her hands. It brings her right back to that day. The grass stains on her knees. The mud over her feet. The guilt in her heart. She can still feel it if she focuses hard enough.

To grab hold of her destiny, to make the actions to help save her kingdom. That’s what she’d really wanted. Just what would’ve happened if she’d given in and taken that blow in Link’s stead? She wouldn’t be here, discussing such a desperate plan to help revive their hero. Who knows? Maybe Link would be here in her place, fighting to decide on whether or not to take the risk. Would he do it?

Would he try to resurrect her, despite everything?

She doesn’t run from it like last time. She looks up at Purah. Her face is pale, her expression is weak and uneasy, but there’s something steely in her eyes that Purah thinks she quite likes.

“We’ll start tonight.”


	2. The Shrine of Resurrection

The Shrine of Resurrection is cold.

It’s a bitter chill, like an icy sting experienced only on the very peak of a mountain. Zelda rubs at her prickling forearms, even though the skin is protected by her overcoat. She swears if she squints hard enough, she can see her own breath. Purah, on the other hand, is still clad in a skirt, bustling around the shrine, and busy enough to work up a sweat.

It’s a lot more crowded in here than Zelda remembers. It had been so empty before, with only the small chamber occupying the space at the very back. Now, it’s covered in Purah’s belongings. A small portable table has been set up in one corner, accompanied by a little wooden stool, which is strewn with books and journals. An enormous toolbox sits on the floor, leaking all kinds of gadgets and contraptions. Purah has a screwdriver neatly pinned into her bun, ready to whip out at a moment’s notice. 

Something about it fills Zelda with a lovely warmth. To exercise her passion as much as Purah could, to be able to use her skills without having any kind of itinerary, away from the eyes of her father, was strangely liberating. As morbid as the entire situation is, she’s quite happy to have found a small amount of freedom in this secret project.

“Alright, I think we’re almost set up. Come over here, princess, and I’ll show you how we do it.”

Zelda, keen as ever, trots over to assist Purah beside the chamber. Purah seems delighted to have found something of a pupil in the princess, who looks up at her eagerly. Really, there’s nothing an eccentric wants more than another eccentric to share their passion with. 

Purah slaps a hand down on the chamber, “Okay! So this is obviously where the resurrection takes place. What it’ll do is fill with this fluid that effectively knits all the parts of the body back together! Considering this fluid is programmable, meaning we can control the rate at which it works and  _ how  _ it works, it might actually be possible to reverse heal somebody!”

Zelda blinks, “...you mean kill somebody.”

“Well it’s not like that’s our goal anyway, but it seems feasible! Ironically enough…” Purah then moves around to the other side of the chamber, but indicates towards the door with a finger. “Now, that podium over there? That is the main activation for this chamber. You just whack the Sheikah Slate into that slot, give it the commands, and it’ll start up!”

Zelda nods silently. To think the Sheikah Slate could accomplish so much in such a small form. It goes without saying that losing it would be really quite bad.

“So, because our subject is still fairly in one piece, it’ll take a lot less time than resurrecting someone from bone. That means we’ll have Link back with us in a matter of days!”

Zelda frowns, though not out of irritation. Her brows furrow in thought as she inspects the chamber, “So… if we were to resurrect someone from bone, how would the body develop all the necessary organs?”

“Well there are a few ways. Like I said before, this fluid will do what we tell it to, providing we input the specific instructions. It can modify the material we put into it, so if we add the right components into the mix, it will restructure everything.”

Zelda can’t hide her perplexion, and Purah emits a giggle. “Alright, let me give you an example. We tried resurrecting a wolf from bone, right? But the bone isn’t enough! So what we did was we got some simple store-bought meat, a few other leftover bits and pieces necessary for the wolf to function, measured up how much we needed and threw it all in! The fluid restructured it exactly how we told it to!” Purah is becoming visibly giddy with excitement at the prospect of this entire experiment, “That wolf is now alive and well, probably running around somewhere on the plateau! Amazing, right?”

Zelda puts a finger to her chin thoughtfully, intaking the information with dead sincerity, “But… how does it know what to restructure it into? Do you tell it to make a wolf?”

Purah shakes her head, “Not quite. Y’see, that bone we got from the wolf was the most important part! You can’t recreate something unless you have a piece of the original. It’s what stores all the genetic information of the subject!”

Purah crosses back around the chamber, striding towards the table and whipping out a book. She flicks it open and taps at the contents, “What we do is we put the original matter in first for the subject we want to resurrect. The chamber processes that, identifies the subject by analysing the component, and then we add the rest of the material!” She tosses the book back down onto the table, which Zelda vows to read later, “We spent a lot of time having to input data ourselves in order for it to know what it’s doing, but you only need to do that once. Now that it’s all recorded, we can jump straight into bringing our precious little hero back to life!”

Purah seems to stand there, striking an incredible stance as if trying to pitch the idea to Zelda, but Zelda’s already sold. Though there’s a moment of hesitation, prompted only by the many factors in which this plot could go wrong, Zelda nods.

“Alright, just… show me what to do.”

Purah nods, “Better to get the hands-on experience, right? Now. As for our subject…”

Zelda winces. She doesn’t want to look. In fact, neither of them do. He’s been….sitting there for a few hours now, and the stench is becoming more and more unbearable. 

She risks a tiny peek out of the corner of her eye. He’s wrapped in a black roll of fabric, awkwardly propped up against the wall by the door. The corpse sort of… sags. It’s a sorrowful sight for the hero of Hyrule. 

  
  


* * *

_ “I can’t believe we’re really doing this. What if we get caught?!” _

_ Zelda brushes her hair back into a ponytail, expertly fixing the loose locks of hair into place, “Then… I don’t know, I’ll make a plea for insanity. We’ll just say we’re still grieving and never got the closure we needed.” _

_ Impa’s pale, except for the bulge of her cheeks, which are painted an odd shade of purple. She grips the shovel in her hand as hard as she can, but it doesn’t do well to hide the shaking that stretches from her shoulders right out to her fingertips. The disturbed pit of soil beneath them has only a few sprouts of grass poking through. Zelda had pondered the idea of sprinkling grass seed over it, hoping that the quicker the grass grows, the quicker the mourning period would be over. _

_ It didn’t work. _

_ “This isn’t what people do for closure! Ugh… I’m...not sure I can do this.” _

_ “Then you don’t have to,” Zelda tells her in a conspiratorial whisper, “Did you get something to wrap him in?” _

_ Impa flicks her head to indicate the roll of cloth that sits just a few feet away, but Zelda doesn’t even look up to check. She sits on her knees, preparing herself for what she’s about to do.  _

_ The thought of someone who had been by her side almost every hour of the day for months upon months being buried right beneath their feet, a place where the world is darkest, is unpleasant to say the least. She swallows thickly, feeling her throat fight against the will to clear her mouth of the most bitter taste imaginable. The quicker they get this done, the quicker they can leave.  _

_ Zelda takes up her own shovel, sitting innocently on the grass beside her. Impa’s knees are shaking, almost threatening to knock her off balance. She winces and squeezes her eyes shut when Zelda shoves the implement into the ground. Under the light of the midnight sun, the shuffling of shovelled dirt has never sounded so loud. _

_ Link would understand. He’d understand why she’s doing this. Even though he never spoke a word, he always exuded this aura of compassion, even when she’d needlessly yelled at him to relieve her own frustrations. It’s a little frightening to be around someone so unreadable, especially if you fear they can see right into your head, but after a while, she’d enjoyed his presence. It was as if she was able to confide in him without ever needing to say a word.  _

_ She emits a grunt, feeling the shovel hit an obstruction. The pit is far too shallow, so it’s only a rock, which Impa helps to dislodge. It doesn’t even take that much effort, but the appearance of an inconvenience, no matter how small, really nips away at Zelda’s patience. She takes a moment to wipe the film of sweat covering her forehead, smudging dirt across it in the process. Her panting breaths are tinged the dull colour of wool by the moonbeam that hits the graveyard at just the right angle- enough to give them the light they need to work. _

_ She wonders what he looks like. The last time she’s seen him was at his own funeral, weirdly enough. Every single member of the Hylian military force had been in attendance, making it an enormous wake. Yet, even with the vast numbers, it had been dead silent.  _

_ He didn’t look peaceful, like Zelda had been led to believe. Death was supposed to be like sleeping, wasn’t it? She’d never seen Link sleep. He was always last to sleep and first to rise. This didn’t look like sleeping, though. He didn’t look peaceful, he didn’t look comfortable. _

_ He looked dead. Totally lifeless, and miserable for it. No matter how hard she stared, knowing damn well that this was Link, there was something about it that told her it wasn’t. It was just a body. An empty body. It wasn’t him. Link had gone the moment he’d met that final blow. This was just honouring the flesh he’d left behind.  _

_ Maybe that’s the reason why digging him up isn’t nearly as harrowing of an experience as Zelda had initially expected. The repetitive act of shovelling dirt is oddly therapeutic.  _

_ “Uhh… ew… I think I can smell him.” _

_ Alright, well, maybe not for everybody. _

* * *

“Alright, that should be all ready to go! I’ll admit, this is my first time doing this on a Hylian subject, but I’ve spent weeks making sure all this data is correct- and hey, if we fail, we can always try again. It’s not like this’ll kill him.”

“I worry about you sometimes, Purah.”

Purah laughs, “This is just how the world of scientists is sometimes! But in all seriousness, I’ve double, triple and quadruple checked  _ everything _ . There’s no way this can go wrong.” 

The chamber is all ready to go. Purah taps away on the Sheikah Slate, comfortably nestled in the pedestal by the exit. Zelda’s expression is forlorn. The fluid that fills the chamber mirrors the brazen blue that Link’s eyes had once been. To imagine it could all be rebuilt right here, almost as if nothing had ever happened.

But despite how smoothly everything seems to be going, Zelda’s mind is heavily occupied by the memory of the body Link had left behind. An empty carcass. Her glimmering eyes belie her stony expression.

“What if it’s not him…?

“Eh?”

“Link,” Zelda turns around to Purah, “We’re recreating his body, but… what if it’s not him? We can’t recreate a soul! What if all we end up making is an empty vessel?” Her voice increases in pitch and anxiety with every word, but Purah is shaking her head before she even has a chance to finish.

“This isn’t a matter of soul. All the information that makes up Link will be in his brain, which will be reproduced. As for the actual mind, well, the analysis of the original component is incredibly advanced- even I can’t figure out how it works. I mean…”

Purah pauses, looking up at the surroundings of the shrine, before murmuring, “...this shrine was made to resurrect. Why would our ancestors want to resurrect an empty body? They must’ve figured  _ something  _ out, right?”

Zelda is still massively apprehensive about this particular factor, but she nods anyway. “There’s really only one way to find out, I suppose.”

Purah offers a charismatic wink, “I always said you had the attitude of a researcher. And if we’re left with the worst case scenario, we can always try jogging his memory. I mean, personality is made through experiences in life. Maybe we can subject him to the things that happened when he was alive.”

“That sounds awfully farfetched, Purah.” Zelda replies, flatly. 

“It comes with the job, I suppose,” there’s something wry about Purah’s smile, which she flashes at Zelda, “It’s all part of uncovering the truth. The cycle of learning.”

Zelda can appreciate that, and finds something admirable about her words. However, she can’t pretend to be entirely convinced.

Purah claps her hands together, “Okay then! All we have left to do is put Link into the chamber! Reckon you’ll be good to do that?” Link’s body is still sitting in the corner, and Zelda is ashamed to admit she’d almost forgotten he was there. He looks like a sad little ragdoll with the way he’s slumped over. The fabric that obscures him from view is admittedly becoming a little… grimy. Despite that, Zelda gives herself a quick shakedown to instil some pep and confidence in herself, thinking of only what the outcome of this will be.

“Well I did bring him here,” Zelda’s voice is light with an odd kind of humour, as she strides towards the wrapped corpse. After having crossed half of Hyrule with the corpse in tow, she thinks it may be far too late for doubts now. As an afterthought, she reckons she’ll have to treat her horse extra well for having to carry such a burden on his back. He deserves it for being so well behaved. One wrong move from the horse and this entire plan could’ve gone right out the window. 

She bends down, taking an extra large breath, and manages to scoop the roll up in her arms. The weight of it is alarming for reasons she can’t quite describe. Link would’ve been so much heavier than this when he was alive, but he’s not light enough to be all bone. It’s all she can think about, being able to carry the body over to the chamber with relative ease. It should never be this easy.

She does her best to lay him down as gently as possible, allowing the blue fluid to envelop his remains. She wants this to work, but now that she’s actually putting him in here, she’s having her doubts. She worries about making a risky decision that could be irreversibly bad.

Though, thinking about it now, the worst has already happened, so what else was there to lose?

Tugging firmly at the rolls of fabric, Zelda is able to dislodge Link from his confines, making sure to give him enough space to… grow, so to speak. The Sheikah Slate blips cheerfully in the background as Purah inserts the commands to process the new matter. 

“Once it’s analysed the form, we can go ahead and put the other materials in. It’ll deconstruct it all and use the matter to reconstruct Link. Then it’s just a matter of waiting for it all to be done.”

“I see.” Zelda replies, plainly, “Are you going to stay here?”

Purah talks without looking up from the slate, “Yeah, it’s best if I stick around, just in case something goes wrong. There’s no telling how long it’ll take either, and I wouldn’t wanna miss Link waking up,” she finishes that thought with a laugh, “Imagine what Link would do if he woke up in here all by himself?”

Zelda cracks a toothy smile at the idea of it. Link waking up here all alone? There really is no telling what he’d do. “I don’t know I could begin to imagine it. I can’t think he’d stay here for long.”

“It’d be trouble for us!” Purah exclaims, “One minute he’s dead, the next minute he’s running nude across Hyrule Field trying to find out what’s going on! And you know he’d give the militia the shock of a lifetime. They all saw him at the funeral.”

Zelda can’t help but laugh. The image of it all is too much for her. Outside of work, Zelda imagines Link to be rather unpredictable, which meant tracking him down would be a pain if he somehow managed to escape their sights. Her chuckles die down, but a small smile is still leftover on her face.

“Will you be alright staying here on your own? I think I should return to the castle at least once, if only to excuse myself properly.” In this context, excusing herself properly really just meant concocting a believable lie that would prevent everybody else from looking for her for the next few days. Her father will need to be fooled into thinking she’s using her time wisely, and should under no circumstances find out that she’s actually spending a week with a crackpot scientist in the hopes of reviving the dead. That would go down about as poorly as chugging spoilt milk.

Purah waves a hand dismissively, “Sure I will! Impa’s gonna bring me back some supplies tomorrow anyway. That is, unless she suddenly decides to let me starve down here. Who knows?” She says this like she knows it’ll happen, and Zelda is starting to have some concerns about their relationship.

As for Impa, she’s currently back at the castle sorting a few things out. Making sure Link’s grave is reverted back to its original condition, getting rid of the evidence, taking care of Zelda’s horse- all the things a royal aide generally does. Not quite the occupational hazard to be expected, but work is work, and if it needs doing, it needs doing. 

That, and she didn’t particularly want to stick around for the resurrection process. She’s more than happy to avoid that part of the plan, so she’ll busy herself with keeping everything under wraps until the process is complete. Zelda feels a little bit bad for having to drag Impa into all of this, but respects her loyalty and commitment through it all. She is, without a doubt, an admirable person and a dear friend. 

And dear friends will happily, though perhaps slightly reluctantly in this case, support a healthy, budding interest in necromancy.

**Author's Note:**

> yeah yeah i know i have like 4 longfics going on but can u blame me this idea is mint


End file.
